


Blaze, Burn, Break

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Voltron Oneshots [27]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, I literally.... have no idea, I really have no idea how to tag this thing, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mutant Powers, Prison, X-men Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: A mini-AU based on Deadpool 2, because the author cannot consume any other media without wanting to make an AU out of it.





	Blaze, Burn, Break

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys I literally have no clue what this is. I watched deadpool 2 over the summer and then wrote this. I don't know why. I guess just mind the tags and... have fun? I don't know man don't look at me.

This was it. This was the day. He was going to get out of this place, today, and he wasn’t ever going to come back. No matter what he had to do.

Footsteps behind him, and Keith’s shoulders tightened, his hands clenching together over his knees. The dining hall was dead silent, the only sound the click of shoes as attendants prowled behind the rows of seated children and the scrape of metal spoons as tasteless porridge was scooped into their bowls. 

All of the kids sat stock still, heads bowed. The attendants were eagle eyed, always poised to strike if they saw even the slightest sign of disobedience. So Keith swallowed down the fear, fought back the heat in his palms, and sat still as the attendant leaned over him for a long, terrifying, moment.

Then he was gone, but Keith still didn’t let himself breathe out. There was never a safe time to breathe, not here. 

At the end of the room there was a wooden stage, and every kid heard the hollow thump as the headmaster stepped up onto it. Keith counted the steps as he headed towards the microphone. Four meant it was business as usual, five meant someone was getting made an example of.

One. Two. Three. Four. Business as usual.

All of the people in the room bowed their heads. They all knew the drill. Keith let his overlong black bangs conceal the fact that he didn’t close his eyes. 

Any small sign of rebellion was worth it.

“Dear Lord,” The microphone squeaked obnoxiously, and out of the corner of his eye Keith noticed one of the kids with more sensitive hearing wince. “We thank you, in your endless grace and charity, for providing us this food. As we continue about our day, we ask that you provide these wayward mutants with the strength to resist the effects of the Devil that have taken hold in their bodies.” 

Keith felt that instinctive flare of anger, that heat rising from his shoulders and running towards his fingers, but he held it back as hard as he could. It wasn’t time. Not yet. 

“Amen.”

All of the children chanted the word along with the headmaster. Keith moved his lips but didn’t say the word. 

He wasn’t hungry, but Keith forced himself to clean his bowl, knowing there would be consequences if he didn’t. And he needed there to not be consequences. He needed everything to go perfectly. 

After breakfast, the kids were marched out of the dining hall and scattered across the orphanage to do their chores. Keith followed his group outside to do the yard work he was assigned. 

The moment his feet hit the sidewalk, his fingers curled eagerly. Tilting his head back, he narrowed his eyes at the letters above the front door.

_ Houndstitch Home for Wayward Mutants. _

This time, when that familiar heat flowed down to his palms, he embraced it. 

He was going to get out of here. 

* * *

The Icebox was legendary. It was the only completely secure place to keep mutants who had proven themselves to be dangerous to human society. The only place people could be absolutely certain they couldn’t break out. Carved into the side of a mountain high above sea level and in a location so remote most of the inmates didn’t even know what continent they were on, it wasn’t only the locked doors and armed guards keeping them in. 

After a year, Shiro was very aware of all of the safety measures in place to keep them locked up and compliant. And for the most part, he didn’t argue. Didn’t get involved with the gangs or the riots that occasionally broke out. 

He was buff enough and scary enough with his scarred face and half white hair that no one really screwed with him, which was a blessing. However, he couldn’t say the same for the scrawny kid that got shoved into his cell that morning. 

It was before morning roll call when he was awoken to the sound of boots on the metal catwalk that led to his cell. He rolled over on his tiny cot, sat up groggily, just in time for the clear plastic door to slide open. Shiro moved to swing his feet to the floor, knowing the guards would get trigger happy if he didn’t comply as quickly as they wanted him to, but for once they weren’t focused on him. Instead they shoved someone else into the cell, someone half a foot shorter than Shiro and probably half his weight, all sickly pale skin and a mop of black hair. 

“Looks like you finally get a roommate, Shirogane.” One of the guards cracked. It was impossible to see through his mask, but the smirk was clear in his voice. 

“Try not to wear him out too quickly.” The other said, and Shiro kept his face carefully blank despite the urge to coil his metal hand into a fist and knock the guy flat. 

One of the guards pressed a button on his belt and the cuffs around the kid’s wrist’s deactivated, falling to the floor with a hollow clank. The other one gathered them up, and with a smart click of boots and the whir of the lock engaging on the door, they were gone. 

The boy carefully moved over to the other cot, sitting as close to the clear wall as he could get. He kept his head down and his muscles tense. Slowly, Shiro sank back down onto his own cot. 

_ What the hell am I supposed to do with this?  _

“How old are you?” He found himself saying to the empty room. The boy twitched, but didn’t raise his head. 

“Fifteen.”

Shiro grimaced and swore under his breath, but the boy didn’t move. 

“What could a fifteen year old do that was bad enough to get tossed in here?”

The kid shrugged. “Blew up a couple cars. Burned a cop.”

_ Huh. Fire then.  _

“That was dumb.”

His head shot up, finally giving Shiro a look at his face. He was thin, with pointy cheekbones and weird blue-purple eyes. Possibly part of his mutation, though Shiro didn’t think anyone was supposed to look that gaunt. 

“It wasn’t.” He snapped, and Shiro raised an eyebrow. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like that. He may not be able to activate his arm with this mutant blocking collar on, but it was heavy and he had the training to use it. But this kid just fisted his hands into the material of his yellow jumpsuit and sneered at him. 

“I did it on purpose.”

His other eyebrow rose to join his first. He had never, not even with all of the messed up people in this joint, heard of someone getting sent to the Icebox on  _ purpose _ .

“Why the hell would you do something like that? Do you know what this place  _ is? _ ”

This is when his gaze turned steely, when his eyes narrowed and he stared Shiro down, like he was daring him to keep questioning his decision. 

“I know things are bad in here.” He said. “I know that I’m a scrawny teenager, and bad things are probably gonna happen to me. But  _ anything  _ is better than where I came from.” 

Shiro just shook his head in bafflement. This kid had to be some sort of crazy to think that the Icebox was anything less than hell on Earth. 

“And you expect me to protect you or something?”

The kid shook his head no, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I don’t expect you to do anything. Though I’d appreciate it if you held off on the whole ‘wearing me out’ thing.”

Shiro flinched hard and looked away. Through the clear walls he could see the clock that hung over the cell block-- two minutes till the cell doors opened and they had to leave for roll call. 

“I’m not going to do that.” He muttered, then sighed. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Keith.”

_ Goddamnit. I’m really stuck with this one, aren’t I? _

* * *

Keith slinked into a seat at a cold metal table, a tray of food clenched in his hands. So far no one had spoken to him, though he had been on the receiving end of some curious and not-so-friendly glances. Still, despite the heavy collar that was probably bruising his collarbone and the armed guards stationed every ten feet, he’d never felt more free. 

No more fake smiling attendants breathing down his neck. No more silent children too afraid to move. No more headmaster yelling into a microphone, praying for God to change their DNA. No more being whipped and beaten for the slightest offense, no more white gloved hands slipping under his blankets, no more being called to the headmasters office in the middle of the night. 

Here, surrounded by killers and criminals, he was finally safe. 

He was snapped rather suddenly out of his reverie by a hand slamming down on the table in front of him, jolting the entire thing. The hand was tinged purple from mutation, and Keith’s eyes followed up the intimidatingly muscular arm to a pair of glowing golden eyes set in a snarling face. 

Ok, maybe not safe. But safer. 

“So,” Growled the purple mutant with a sneer, “The rumors were true. Fresh meat in the Icebox.”

Keith hooked his ankles together and leaned his cheek on his hand, trying to feign nonchalance. Maybe if he didn’t act scared, they would get bored and leave him alone. So he ignored them and pushed his food around with his fork. Around now would be the time he would normally start to feel the flames welling up under his skin, but there was nothing. 

“Hey. I’m talking to you, kid.”

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to the mans face. He was glaring, but a smirk grew across his lips once Keith was looking. 

“He can be taught.” The growl in his voice was a familiar one, and Keith felt a shiver go down his spine as his grip tightened around his fork. He’d thought something like this might happen, but he wasn’t going to make it easy, that’s for sure. 

But before he had to do anything, another hand smacked down onto the table on Keith’s other side. This one was made of metal, and Keith was surprised to see his cellmate standing over him with a protective gleam in his eye. Shiro, he’d said his name was.

“Walk away, Sendak.” He snarled, and Keith instinctively curled in on himself. This was far removed from the soft voice he’d used to question him this morning. More than that, he couldn’t quite believe he was doing this at all. The way he’d acted that morning seemed to indicate he was going to let Keith fend for himself. 

_ Maybe he expects something in return. He said he didn’t, but maybe he changed his mind.  _

Sendak didn’t back off. Instead he just raised an eyebrow and sneered. 

“Oh, I see. You’ve called dibs, eh Shirogane?”

Shiro scowled. “I said. Walk. Away.”

Sendak looked him up and down, seemingly weighing the pros and cons in his head of getting into a fight with Shiro. Finally he decided, and shot Keith a sleazy grin. 

“Alright. Have fun being Shirogane’s bitch, kid.”

Both Keith and Shiro let out a breath when Sendak finally left, and after a moment's hesitation Shiro slumped into the seat beside Keith, sliding over his tray which he’d left on the far end of the table. 

There’s silence between them for a long moment before Shiro spoke. 

“I’m surprised you’re eating already.” Keith looked up at him, a questioning expression on his face, and Shiro smiled a little. “The food is so gross, most people don’t eat for a few days.” 

Keith gave a tiny shrug and shoved another forkful of mystery meat in his mouth. “It’s not so bad.”

Shiro frowned and took a bite from his own tray, chewing and swallowing without a flinch. 

“So.” He began again after a few more minutes of quiet. “You said this place was better than where you came from. Where was that?”

Keith sighed and shoved a bit of food around on his plate. “Place in New York. Called ‘Houndstitch Home for Wayward Mutants’.” 

Shiro winced in apparent sympathy. “I’ve heard stories about that place. It’s an orphanage right?”

The question stung, but Keith kept his face blank as he nodded. “Yeah. It sucked.”

“I can imagine.”

_ No you can’t,  _ Keith thought to himself, but he held his tongue. It wouldn’t do to piss off the one person who seemed to be on his side for the moment. Speaking of which…

“What do you want in return?” 

Shiro frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“For chasing off Sendak. What do you want from me?”

His face softened ever so slightly, but Keith wasn’t sure if he could trust it. He’d learned a long time ago that friendly faces were nothing more than fronts for the darkness that lurked underneath. 

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to believe you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“You’ve already got the prison attitude down, that’s for sure.” Shiro said with a sigh. “Look, before all of this, I was a soldier. And I took it seriously.” He turned solemn eyes to Keith. “You’re just a kid, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. And I’m not asking for anything in return.”

Keith snorted and rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe it for a second. But Shiro could pretend as long as he wanted, and when he stopped, Keith would be ready.

* * *

For the next few days, the two of them just went through the motions. Shiro would scare away anyone who got too close to Keith, and for now his scary appearance and reputation was enough to keep them at bay. He had a feeling things were only going to escalate as time went on, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it other than keep an eagle eye on Keith at all times. Which wasn’t particularly difficult, as Keith seemed content to just exist here without going looking for trouble. 

Keith had been in the Icebox for a week before he let slip anything else about his old life. It was late at night, after lights out, and Shiro was stretched out on his cot praying he would actually sleep that night rather than being tormented by nightmares when Keith suddenly spoke. 

“You know how Houndstitch was supposed to be an orphanage?”

Shiro rolled over to face him. Keith was sitting upright, knees pulled to his chest and staring blankly through the clear cell walls. 

“Yeah.”

“Well it wasn’t. Not always. There were kids who were orphans but a lot weren’t.”

Shiro nodded, watching Keith intently. His face was void of emotion, but there had to be a reason he was bringing this up. 

“My parents aren’t dead.” He finally revealed with a shaky exhale. “Or at least my dad isn’t. He gave me to that place because he was afraid of me.” 

Shiro gave a little wince of sympathy, and although Keith looked down and slowly curled one of his fists, he didn’t say anything else. 

“When you first got here,” Shiro ventured to say, “You said anywhere was better than where you came from. Is that still true?”

Keith lazily turned his head. There was no hesitation in his answer. 

“Yes.”

* * *

It was another three weeks before Keith got Shiro to talk about his own past. He was clearly different than the other inmates of the Icebox, and he couldn’t help but be curious as to how someone with such a strong moral compass like Shiro could end up here with the delinquents. 

“You already know that I was a soldier.”

The two of them were sat at one of the metal mess tables, tucked away in the corner of the room away from the other inmates. Shiro leaned his arms on his knees and stared at the floor while Keith sat cross legged on the table above him and listened raptly. 

“A couple of years back my squad was chosen for a series of clinical trials. They were testing a sort of super soldier serum, I think. But it wasn’t done, and most of the men died. The ones that lived had their mutant genes triggered.” 

The fingers on his metal hand curled, almost subconsciously. Shiro’s eyes were beginning to glaze over as he spoke, recalling things from a long time before.

“Mine is that I can light my hand up, like plasma. But it burned, bad, and they had to replace my arm with something that could handle the heat. They ran tests for awhile after that, but it’s all a bit blurry for me.”

Keith nodded, unsure if Shiro was even seeing him right now but doing it anyway as a show of solidarity. 

“Eventually the public found out about what was going on and the program got shut down. But then they decided that we were too dangerous to be let loose, so we ended up in here.”

“So there are other guys from your squad here?”

“Yeah.” Shiro huffed a bit, still glaring a hole in the concrete floor. “Sendak was one of them.”

Keith’s jaw dropped, and Shiro chuckled at his flabbergasted expression, though it sounded hollow. 

“Yeah. He wasn’t always like that. But trauma changes people, I guess.”

Keith couldn’t say anything to that, because he knew from personal experience that it was true.

* * *

“What was it about Houndstitch that made it so bad?”

Keith glanced up, an irritated scowl on his face. Over the last few months he’d gotten good at ripping small pieces of metal off of the surrounding architecture and sharpening them into shivs, and he’d recently traded a few of them for a thin paperback book from one of the friendlier inmates. He’d already devoured it four times, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing, and Shiro was interrupting. 

“I thought you said you’d heard about it.”

Shiro shrugged. He was laying back on his cot, hands behind his head and gaze on the ceiling. 

“I’ve heard rumors, but I could never be sure if any of it was true.”

With a sigh, Keith closed his book and returned it to the relative safety of his pillowcase. 

“Well, let me think.” Leaning back, he assumed a pose of forced nonchalance. The last few months had been fine so far-- Shiro had kept his promise and didn’t ask for anything in return, but he wasn’t about to give him any emotional leverage over him. “It could have been the awful food. Then again, it could have also been the withholding of said food as punishment.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Shiro’s mouth twist unhappily, but he didn’t pause. Shiro had asked, after all. 

“Or I guess it could’ve been the hours of forced labor. Or the whipping. Or the beating. Or the endless sermons and prayers for God to ‘fix’ our DNA.”

Shiro’s prosthetic clicked as his fists clenched. 

“But it was probably the fact that every member on the staff shouldn’t have been allowed within 3000 yards of a playground.”

Shiro went very, very still, and Keith held his breath as he waited for a reaction. 

“Did they… did they ever… to you?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, trying to sound flippant even as his stomach twisted itself into knots at the memories of white gloved hands and rug burn on his knees. “Every last one of them. The headmaster was the worst, though. Guess he had a thing for me or something.” He could practically hear Shiro grinding his teeth on the other side of the room. “In fact, he had to get the flooring in his office changed to tile ‘cause I kept burning holes in the carpet.”

He listened as Shiro drew in a breath and let it out slooooooowly. When he spoke, his voice was tight and trembling with barely contained rage.

“If we ever get out of here, I’ll kill him.”

Keith snorted. “If we ever get out of here,  _ I’ll _ kill him.”

* * *

Everything was going fine. He was six months into his stay in the Icebox, and things were fine. Shiro made sure Sendak and the other aggressive prisoners kept their distance. Nobody had touched him since he got here. He was as close to happy as a fifteen year old in an adult prison could get. 

Then one morning one of the inmates managed to get out of their collar, and all hell broke loose. 

One moment they were eating lunch rather peacefully, and the next something was blowing up and Shiro was shoving him to the floor beneath him. 

Keith’s ears were ringing from the noise, and his vision blurred in and out as he forced himself to his hands and knees. Shiro was there, yelling something incomprehensible, pulling Keith to his feet. A blast of cold air hit his cheeks once they cleared the table, and he stared with barely disguised shock at the new hole in the wall. Another explosion rocked the building, sending both of them to their knees again. 

The other prisoners were shouting, flocking to where the exploding mutant was trying to hold off the armed guards. Shiro pulled on him again. It wasn’t until they were halfway across the room that he realized what he was trying to do. 

The hole led outside, conveniently onto a snowy slope that was clearly angled downwards but not dangerously steep. Shiro stepped through it and out into the wind, tugging Keith along after him. 

_ He’s trying to get us out. _

The two of them stumbled down the slope as quickly as they could without falling on their faces, Shiro leading with an insistent hand on Keith’s arm and Keith following without argument. They were moving fast, trying to put as much distance between them and the Icebox before the guards realized they were gone. Keith spared a glance over his shoulder.

They weren’t the only ones making a run for it. Several other yellow blobs were following them down the mountain, splintering off from each other and scattering in all directions. Shiro gave a sharp yank on his arm, tugging them both over the lip of a small earthen ridge, catching Keith when he stumbled and turning them to the left. Now they were in a ravine and protected from the wind, but Shiro was still moving as quickly as he could with Keith who was still stunned from the explosion. 

He lost the time, mindlessly stumbling after Shiro who was pushing forward like a man possessed. Probably in shock.

_ Guess it’s not so mutant proof after all. _

He had no idea how long it had been when he finally came back to himself enough to speak. He knew that his legs, feet, and lower back ached from walking, that there was probably a hand shaped bruise encircling his forearm from Shiro’s metal hand, that his throat was like sandpaper with thirst and his entire body was shivering from the cold. 

“Sh-Shiro.” He chattered, wrapping his free arm around his stomach to try and conserve body heat. “Are you s-sure this was a g-good idea?”

Shiro’s tightened shoulders told him everything he needed to know. Shiro hadn’t planned this, and he had no idea what to do any more than Keith did, but he’d seen an opportunity and decided to take it. Keith couldn’t begrudge him for that. 

Shiro abruptly changed their direction, yanking Keith to the right and making for a shallow indent carved into the side of the ravine. It was still snow swept and had icicles hanging from the edge of the overhang, but it was a place to sit for a moment, at least. The moment they stopped Keith was dropping, coiling up into a ball and shivering. Shiro knelt down beside him and rubbed his back with his flesh hand. 

“We’re pr-probably gon-nna freeze to d-death.” Keith said dismally. He knew they’d already been out here too long, and their prison jumpsuits weren’t nearly enough protection from the alpine conditions of wherever-the-fuck the Icebox was located. 

Shiro pondered his statement for a moment before he spoke. “Do you trust me?” His voice was surprisingly steady for the situation, and Keith found himself nodding without pausing to think about it. He had followed the guy out into a snowstorm-- that was as close to trust as it really got. 

Then without warning Shiro was swinging his metal arm. Keith flinched, expecting pain, but instead heard steel clanking, and the now familiar weight of the collar fell away from his throat and into the snow. Fire immediately raced up his spine into his shoulders, and he barely had time to rip his hands away from his sides before they were going up in flames. 

“There. Now we won’t freeze.”

* * *

“Allura! Allura! Did you hear?”

Lance came skidding through the open door into Allura’s office, panting and flushed in his excitement. Allura looked up from her computer screen with an annoyed grimace. 

“Heard about what, Lance?”

“About the prison break!” He dashed forward to lean onto Allura’s desk, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Those mutants breaking out of the Icebox!”

“Yes, I heard.” Allura answered with a frown. “What of it?”

“ ‘What of it?’” He mimicked before rolling his eyes dramatically. “You’ve been talking about recruiting for months! This is the perfect opportunity!”

Allura blinked before her expression settled on flabbergasted. “Lance, you can’t possibly-- these are criminals! Murderers! What makes you think those are the types of people who we could recruit?”

“They’re not  _ all  _ like that.” With a flourish, Lance produced a series of folded papers from his pocket, which he dropped onto the desk. “I did my homework and cross referenced with the list of escaped prisoners. One of them never actually did anything wrong, and another one is just a kid! A kid, Allura! My age!”

Allura merely raised an eyebrow and didn’t touch the offered pages. “And where did you get access to the list of escaped prisoners? Surely that’s not publicly available.”

“Pidge.” Said Lance simply, shrugging, which made Allura pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation. 

“I keep telling her, hacking into government resources is  _ strictly  _ forbidden--”

“Come on, Allura!” Lance was wheedling now, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. “They broke out twelve hours ago! Who knows how much longer they have before they get caught again or they freeze? They are on a mountain, ya know.”

The older woman sat back and rubbed her temples tiredly. The same gesture she always did when she was sick of arguing and was about to give in. Lance indulged himself in a mental pat on the back. 

“Fine. We’ll take out the helicopter, but we’re only looking for those two. If we don’t find them within an hour we come back, no arguments.”

Lance let out a triumphant whoop, then raced back out of the room to inform Pidge and Hunk that they were about to run a rescue mission. Allura sighed and reached into her desk to retrieve her bottle of Aspirin.

* * *

Darkness had fallen over the mountain hours ago, and Keith was beyond the point of shivering, the flames in his hands flickering dangerously and threatening to go out. He’d never tried to keep them going for this long or this steadily, and the effects were beginning to make themselves known. 

He and Shiro had pressed on a bit further, hunkering down in another cave once the sun dipped below the horizon. There they pressed together to share both body heat and Keith’s flames, but it wasn’t helping much. Shiro was badly off, but still better than Keith, who was still thin and lanky like a beanpole. 

His eyelids drooped, but Shiro jostled his shoulder. 

“Stay awake.” He said tightly. Keith shook his head, but kept his eyes open anyway. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the bottom.” His words slurred together, and Shiro let out a heavy breath, warm against the back of his neck. 

“‘M sorry, Keith.” He murmured quietly, rubbing a hand up and down Keith’s arm. “I should’ve thought before I did this. It was a bad decision, and now you’re the one suffering for it.”

“It’s ok. You were only trying to help.”

“Yeah, but which one of us was I trying to help?”

Keith didn’t have an answer, and a long silence descended. Keith’s flames were burning lower and lower as time passed, but somehow he was still feeling warm. That was a bad sign, he knew, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. 

He was roused from his half doze by the chopping of helicopter blades beating the air. He watched through blurry eyes as Shiro left his side to peer outside the cave, and after a moment began to jump and wave his arms about, trying to catch their attention. Keith couldn’t find it in him to get up, but he could find his voice. 

“Shiro, what are you doing?” He called, having to shout over the ever increasing volume of the helicopter. “What if it’s the guards?”

“It’s not!” Shiro shouted back, something new shining in his eyes. “There’s a different insignia on the side! It’s not them!”

Just as the helicopter touched down in front of the cave, Keith let his flames go out.

* * *

“We understand your reluctance, but I assure you, we only seek the best for the world.” 

The annoying British woman hadn’t stopped badgering him since he’d woken up, and it was seriously getting on his nerves. Not only was he overwhelmed with recovering from hypothermia in some new fancy ass mansion, but Shiro was also nowhere to be found and this woman with silver hair just wouldn’t lay off. Allura, she’d said her name was. 

There was another person in the room too, a kid about his age with tan skin and blue eyes, who’d been sulking in the corner since Keith had snapped at him near the beginning of the conversation. He’d rattled off this whole story about being a part of a group of vigilante mutants who used their abilities to help people, and wove a tale of finding him and Shiro in the database and rushing off to pluck them off the mountain, purely because they had ‘potential’. 

Keith had called bullshit. 

Allura, the apparent leader of this little group, was very insistent that they were working for good. Keith was sure that  _ she  _ thought that. He was also sure that the headmaster of Houndstitch had thought the same thing. 

Keith turned away and ignored her for five straight minutes, and that was when the other boy threw himself back into the conversation.

“Come on, man!” He cried with a childish stomp of his foot. “We rescued you! We’re the good guys here!”

Keith narrowed his eyes dangerously and snarled, “Prove it.” Which made the other boy pause in surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me. If you’re the good guys, prove it. Prove you’re actually helping.”

Allura, remarkably, was patient. “And what would you have us do to prove it?”

Keith looked her in the eye and didn’t let his voice waver when he spoke.

“Get the kids out of Houndstitch.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find the video game reference and get a cookie.


End file.
